Cameron relaxes with a whisky after his disappointing encounter with the
redoubtable Angela Merkel

Sam was beating her sofa cushions, trying to get rid of the dent Frau Merkel had left in them when Dave staggered into the apartment.

“Poor darling, you look as though she sat on you, too,” Sam said, heading for the nearest bottle of whisky. “Was Auntie Angie mean to her naughty nephew?”

“It was awful,” Dave groaned as she handed him a generous double. “She didn’t even try to soften the blows. No limits to freedom of movement. No fundamental treaty reforms. She wasn’t giving us anything she didn’t want herself. Now I know how Alex Salmond feels when we tell him he can’t keep the pound.”

He collapsed onto the sofa, drank deeply and sighed. “I mean, she went on about the British standing up for freedom, Winston Churchill, Speakers’ Corner, all that stuff. But underneath, she obviously sees us as a pathetic bunch of drunken, deluded, resentful moaners who are utterly rubbish at football.”

Sam poured him a refill and said, “I knew things weren’t going well when she screwed up her face as you moved in to kiss her.”

“It wasn’t as if I was having much fun, either,” Dave complained. “It felt like snogging a lavender-scented Tiger tank. I was absolutely in 'close your eyes and think of England’ mode.”

“It could be worse,” said Sam, trying to cheer him up. “You could be François Hollande. Do you remember when he landed in Germany and she practically pushed him down the red carpet towards the guard of honour?”

“Poor chap!” Dave chortled. “There he was, a Frenchman walking down a line of German soldiers. He didn’t know whether to inspect them or surrender!”

“I do rather admire the way she refuses to conform to stereotypical expectations of how women should look and behave,” said Sam. “Who else would be brave enough to meet the Queen wearing frumpy black slacks, flat shoes and a flight attendant’s blue jacket? It always takes me hours to get ready when we have to go to the Palace. She can’t have spent more than five minutes. It’s really quite impressive.”

“God, yah, absolutely!” Sam insisted, before bursting into giggles. “No, of course not! But I did love the way Angela strode up to Her Maj and then couldn’t decide whether to bow, or curtsey or just shake hands, so she just bobbed up and down like a rubber duckie in a bath.”

“Still,” said Dave, “it must have been nice to meet another German, after nothing but British people all day long.”

“So, now that Angela’s dumped you in it, what are you going to do?” Sam asked.

Dave sighed thoughtfully. “I’ll pick up on what she said in her speech about the need to commemorate the two world wars. I think that’s absolutely right. It’s terribly important to remember the sacrifices on both sides; to be grateful for the peace we enjoy today; and, above all, to keep reminding the Germans who won.”